


Ask Me About My New Material

by twoseas



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bill Hader’s shoulders, Blow Jobs, Eddie and Richie levels of profanity, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, In more ways than one, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, but it’s important to me that you know everyone is alive, including Stan, only Richie and Eddie are in this, so much swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 12:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21446035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoseas/pseuds/twoseas
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak has a very specific area of sexual interest. He has only ever found comedian Richie Tozier attractive. He doesn’t know why.Until he does.AKA, Eddie has his own version of porn and it’s Richie Tozier content. Which becomes a little complicated when he gets his memories back. And files for divorce. And moves in with his best friend...who is Richie Tozier.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 233
Kudos: 2475
Collections: It Faves





	Ask Me About My New Material

**Author's Note:**

> I’m definitely not going to reach the NaNoWriMo word count goal BUT I am going to finally contribute to Reddie! 
> 
> As a person who’s been at least a little bit in love with Bill Hader since he joined SNL, this last year or two has been the gift that just keeps giving. May he never see this story. 
> 
> Please, enjoy!

Eddie never gave much thought to sex.

Of course he had his concerns about germs, STIs, STDs, and the various hygiene problems that came with exchanging bodily fluids, that was only normal. But beyond that, he didn’t really care about sex. He knew his disinterest wasn’t the norm, he watched countless guys in college make fools of themselves chasing after women, he heard all the jokes on TV and in the movies, he heard the bragging and whining in class, at the gym, in the office after he graduated and entered the workforce. He knew that people were obsessed with it and he wasn’t and it was all fine. 

Even after marrying Myra Eddie didn’t care about it and his wife seemed just as happy not to have sex with any kind of constancy. She even bragged about it herself every once in awhile. Something would happen to a coworker or a book club member - a husband would be unfaithful, a boyfriend would look too long at another woman - and Myra would tell Eddie how happy she was “her Eddie-bear wasn’t like those men, he was more civilized, more evolved” and they would go to sleep in their separate beds and it was all fine. 

The closest Eddie came to enjoying sex was the occasional habitual relief he got in the shower after waking up with morning wood. He didn’t think about anyone in particular, just focused on the sensation, and it was nice. He liked it. It was like an excellent morning stretch. Or the satisfaction of a personal best at his morning run. It was fine, but he wouldn’t exactly upend his life or his routines to chase the feeling.

Then he turned 28. 

Myra was out at a book club meeting and Eddie was lazing around after a surprise early day at work. Normally he wasn’t back at the apartment until after dark, Myra always there and ready to fuss. It was a relief to have the place (and the TV) to himself for a change. Myra chose what they watched and when they watched it so Eddie was going to take advantage of her rare absence. God knew when he’d get another chance. 

He flipped through the channels, pausing on a stand up special. 

The guy wasn’t funny. 

Eddie didn’t get why he was still watching. 

The jokes were bland, phoned in vulgarity. 

The only redeeming quality was the comedian himself. He was charismatic, energetic, his expressions opened him up to the audience’s laughter and he seemed to bask in every drop of attention. He was tall, long limbed, poorly dressed, his glasses took up a sizable portion of his face.

Eddie’s gaze kept darting across his features. Certain gestures he made caught Eddie’s attention, his occasional laughs (at his own jokes, of fucking course) made Eddie reluctantly smile, and his eyes were admittedly arresting - there was something behind them that made Eddie question who the guy was beyond the played out dick jokes. Eddie watched the comedian in rapt attention and ignored the fact that he didn’t even like his comedy that much. 

When the special ended Eddie sat up on the couch and froze. 

He was hard. 

His stomach felt tight and a swooping sensation rattled through his chest and his dick was undeniably hard and  _ fuck _ the thought of untamed brunette curls and face splitting grins and obnoxiously loud guffaws made Eddie want to... 

Running to the shower, Eddie threw the water on cold and pretended nothing was happening.

A business trip a month later forced Eddie to remember the Comedy Special Incident while he watched a late night show in his hotel room. The comedian was the second guest and he looked just the same - wild hair, big glasses, rumpled clothes, wide grin and all. 

The thing that annoyed Eddie the most was that now he was funny. 

He was still loud and lanky and he made too many dick jokes, but these ones were actually stupid enough to find their way back towards funny in a way that made Eddie roll his eyes and barely suppress his laughter. He did none of the jokes from his comedy special, instead relying on his rapport with the talk show host and doing impressions of obscure old movie stars and true crime television hosts. 

By the time the short segment was over, Eddie was hard again and he knew the comedian’s name - Richie Tozier. 

_ Stupid name _ , Eddie thought as he glared at his boner. 

Eddie tried to ignore it. Tried to will it away. Tried to sleep. But none of it worked and Eddie was for once in his life breathtakingly horny and he needed to do something about it and it wasn’t like Eddie was cheating on his wife. Wasn’t like he was some kind of sex fiend. He just needed some relief. This was nothing compared to the shit he heard about other people. Jerking it to a minor celebrity? Nothing. Not a big deal. Just some stupid fucking biological thing set off by some dumb, cute asshole on TV. That was nothing. Nothing at all.

Eddie was furious, aggravated, turned on, and already wrapping his hand around his traitorous cock. And he blamed it all on Richie Fucking Tozier. 

_ Not like it would become a thing _ , he told himself. Just once, to deal with the really fucking inconvenient hard on tenting his pajama pants. Just once, so he could get to sleep.

It became a thing. 

For literal years.

Eddie never, ever talked about Richie Tozier with other people. He didn’t talk about his new stand up acts, the movies he was reportedly cast in, his long list of voice work. He especially never brought up Richie Tozier with Myra. 

But Eddie knew all about him.

In whatever alone time he could eek out, Eddie watched shitty comedies just because Richie Tozier had a minor starring role. His secret Netflix account (that Myra had no knowledge of or access to) started recommending god awful stand up specials because of how often Eddie watched Richie Tozier’s. He sat in his home office and opened incognito tabs in his browser to watch whatever new interview Richie Tozier did promoting whatever the hell he happened to be doing at the time. 

And while he watched all these things Eddie found himself hard and wanting every time.

Every. Single. Time. 

If pissed him off, it annoyed him, it confused him, but in the end Eddie always gave into temptation. 

And temptation came in the form of jerking off to a four-eyed, messy, middle aged comedian with a trashmouth. 

Those stupid glasses that hid his pretty eyes at the wrong angle or magnified them at the right one. That dumb big grin. Those smaller, self deprecating half smiles. That out of control, full bodied laugh. Those long legs and large hands. Broad shoulders. The furrows on his forehead when he raised his eyebrows. His receding hairline. His chiseled fucking jaw. 

Eddie was actively furious at how hot he found all those things when before the most he thought about someone’s appearance was a casual ‘huh they’re pretty/handsome’ before moving on.

It didn’t make any sense.

Until it did.

In the restaurant, as the gong resounded around them, Eddie looked up at a four-eyed, messy, middle aged Trashmouth and suddenly it all clicked. 

He had two thoughts. 

_ Oh _ , he realized,  _ it’s because I’m in love with the dumbass _ . 

And, 

_ Aw fuck _ . 

Eddie didn’t have much time to think over the implications of his realizations while being chased and stabbed and terrorized. But when the dust literally and figuratively settled and the Losers moved on to the rest of their lives, Eddie had an unfortunate amount of time to think over the implications. A really, really unfortunate amount of time. 

Especially since he was getting divorced and living with Richie because of fucking course he’d agreed the second the offer was made and for once in his idiotic life he didn’t analyze all the possible risks. He hadn’t even considered what living with Richie would entail and Eddie quickly realized that living with his best friend (the only person to ever turn him on, the person he was in love with) was kind of challenging. 

Everywhere he looked there was Richie. Splayed out on the sofa, leaned back on the kitchen counter, flopped down on Eddie’s bed, sprawled across the carpet. He was even better in person and with all the things Eddie now knew and remembered about him, Eddie felt like fucking Tantalus or something - what he wanted was right there and it looked  _ so, so good _ and he  _ wanted _ . Everything was  _ RichieRichieRichie _ , but Eddie couldn’t do anything about it. 

He was so goddamn frustrated and he couldn’t say anything to Richie (say something and lose his best friend? No fucking thanks) and he felt like masturbating to his best friend/the-guy-kind-enough-to-open-up-his-home-to-a-neurotic-divorcee was kind of fucked up. Like a weird violation of...something. So Eddie turned his back on temptation and suffered in silence and cold showers. 

Eddie lasted three weeks. 

When it got too much, his morning wood going from persistent to demanding to the final phase of uncomfortably sticky wet dreams (he was fucking forty?!?! How was he having wet dreams?!), Eddie told his conscience a firm ‘fuck off’ and decided that needs had to be met. 

Richie left for a business meeting and Eddie waited a precise thirty minutes before starting just in case Richie forgot something and decided to come back. Then Eddie was officially in the safe hour he allotted himself for his guilty pleasure. 

His door was closed. 

His laptop was out. 

His headphones were on.

His shirt was off.

Tissues, lube, and wastebasket were all in place. 

Settled against his headboard, Eddie opened an incognito tab and searched YouTube for the latest interview Richie had done. He’d filmed it just that week. Eddie had helped pick his clothes, heckling Richie every time he tried to throw on a terribly patterned short sleeved button up until Richie finally threw his hands up and waved to his closet, giving Eddie express permission to choose. 

And Eddie had to give it to himself, he chose well. 

The shirt’s color highlighted the green-blue in Richie’s eyes, the blazer fit him better than anything he normally wore, showing off the ridiculously unfair shoulders that Richie habitually hunched. Richie’s dark pants were slim enough to accentuate the length of his legs and the peak of brightly colored socks at the ankle kept the look distinctly Richie. 

Sighing, Eddie let the tight, swooping feeling overtake him. He shifted where he sat, anticipation already causing his erection to fill out. 

He hit play. 

The interview was good. Richie was open and entertaining in a way that Eddie never realized he wasn’t before. Before Richie was out, when he was still letting other writers control his act, there was an underlying tension, an unseen burden. Richie was so much more himself after they all reunited and the thought that Eddie had played a part in making Richie seem so much happier added to the floaty, fluttering feeling deep in Eddie’s chest. 

Eddie huffed in annoyance as Riche flirted with the host, winking and leaning over the desk to invade the other man’s space. The host just laughed with him, leaning in right back. 

Shoving aside the flash of jealousy, Eddie focused on the way Richie cackled out his delight, throwing himself into his laughter when the host said something he genuinely found funny. Richie was so expressive and his gestures were entrancing. 

With a soft exhale, Eddie slid his hand down the front of his sweatpants, eyes tracking the movements of Richie’s hands as he gesticulated widely, long fingers flying as he waved his hands.

His voice was good. So good. His voice had gotten deeper over the years and there was a rough quality to it that had Eddie shivering. Sucking in a breath, Eddie grabbed his small bottle of lube and squeezed out enough to ease the friction. 

Muffling a slight groan, Eddie watched as Richie flashed the camera a mischievous smirk. 

Snatches of their time together filtered through Eddie’s imagination. Rumpled, just awoken Richie smirking at him over his mug of coffee. Richie grinning at him over a slice of pizza after a truly terrible joke. Richie laughing at something Eddie grumbled under his breath about the other customers in the grocery store checkout line. Richie ducking his head, hiding a soft smile after Eddie bought him something he’d offhandedly mentioned liking. 

Eddie’s fingers twitched in time with his cock, hand speeding up to push him towards climax. 

Then his door swung open. 

“Eddie, you hear me? I said I was- HOLY SHIT!!”

Shoving his laptop away and removing his hand from his dick fast enough to beat the land speed record, Eddie screamed out a horrified, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HOME?!”

“Sorry, fuck, I’m so fucking sorry!” Richie fumbled, eyes shut closed and face pained as he tried to back out the doorway. He mostly kept bashing himself into the doorframe. “Fuck, fucking shit, I- here, I’ll-”

Eddie had never seen Richie so flustered and it would’ve been hilarious if he wasn’t busy being mortified and shoving his still hard dick back into his pants. 

“Learn to fucking knock, asshole!” Eddie shrieked, removing his headphones and tossing them aside.

“Yes, yes! Fuck yes, I will. Jesus, I’m so sorry. God.” Richie gave up on his struggle to leave, eyes now open and pointedly aimed at the ceiling. “I am so, so sorry. A man has a right to jerk off-”

“Jesus Christ, Rich-”

“-in his own room. It’s, like, in the Constitution. I did knock even though you didn’t hear me but that does not give me permission to bust through your room and invade your privacy and your jerk off time and I will actively do better,” Richie promised, features twisted up in genuine apology and something else Eddie didn’t really have the brain power to comprehend at the moment. 

“Wow, thanks,” Eddie supplied dryly, his heart rate still jacked way past resting. 

Richie laughed out breathily, that indecipherable expression wiped away by sheepishness. “Ok, so should I leave you to it or…?”

Eddie blinked at him, entirely unsure what the trailed off option was. Before he could speak up and ask, movement drew his eye towards the end of his bed. 

His laptop had been shoved away with more panic than strategy, the computer perched precariously at the edge. Something (maybe Eddie breathed wrong or gravity just decided to be a bitch) nudged it just enough to send it sliding to the floor. In a surge of newfound panic (it was a new laptop!) Eddie snached at the closest thing he could see to save his computer - which happened to be the still attached headphone cable. 

His hold on the cable slowed his laptop’s descent, but the headphone cable wasn’t meant to be used as a rope and just like that the headphones were unplugged, the laptop left to flop on the floor with an unceremonious thunk.

Then something truly horrible happened. 

Richie’s cackling laugh broke through the silence, loud and undeniably coming from the laptop’s speakers. 

Eddie’s eyes widened as every muscle in his body seized, stuck between flight or fight. 

Richie’s voice continued on, talking about his new material when pressed by the voice of the late night host. 

“What the fuck,” Richie breathed. 

“Don’t,” Eddie told him, hand up as if he could physically stop what was happening. 

“Eddie...” Richie sounded lost as his eyes darted from the laptop still playing his interview to Eddie and back again. “What the fuck is happening right now?”

“Richie, stop,” Eddie demanded. 

“Are you-“ Brow furrowing, Richie stopped his question short before mumbling to himself, “No way. No fucking way. But what else could it be…”

Clearing his throat, Richie raised his voice back to conversational levels. “Eddie, were you-”

“No,” Eddie cut him off, answering the unasked question way too fast and so obviously lying while he did so.

Wheezing out a breath, Richie stared Eddie down with an intensity that had him avoiding eye contact. “Eds, come on. Have you been-”

“Drop it!” Eddie ordered, scowling down at his comforter. “Just drop it so we can never speak of this again.”

“Absolutely not,” Richie shot back, firm and unpersuadable despite the bemused quality that lingered in his eyes. “Now tell me why the fuck you’re jerking it while my interview plays on your laptop. And don’t you dare fucking lie.”

“I was-“

“Try again.”

“I didn’t even say anything, asshole!”

“Yeah, but you were making your bullshitting face and I told you not to lie!”

“I did not make a face!”

“Yes, you fucking did. You made your lie face. It’s the face you make before feeding someone some grade A certified grass fed bullshit and I need the fucking truth right now, Eddie, or I’m going to have a mental breakdown because what. The fuck. Is happening!?” 

“I masturbate to you, ok!” Eddie screamed, losing it as he stared up at Richie. Richie’s jaw went slack, mouth open in super unflattering shock. “I jerk off to your interviews.”

“Obviously,” Eddie tacked on in a hiss. Then it was like the floodgates had been opened, Eddie’s secret spilling out, rushing towards the sole source of over ten years worth of spank bank material. “I watch your shit and I get hard, alright? I saw one of your shitty stand up specials like twelve years ago and you’re the only person I get it up for. Before then jerking off was just like a relaxing way to start my day in my morning shower but ever since I saw your stupid face on my TV this is what I do.”

“Your interviews are way better, by the way,” Eddie told him critically. “Your stand up was so fucking fake, Richie, Jesus Christ. I’m surprised you didn’t have people constantly calling you out on it. Thank god you’re writing your own material now. In your interviews you actually come across as you and I fucking like it, ok? I like the way you talk and the cadence of your voice and your dumbass expressions and the way your eyebrows rise up and down and your fucking shoulders, what the fuck by the way, and how you throw your whole body into a laugh and the quiet huffs you do when something’s funny but not that funny and the way your big fucking hands move. I like your stupid glasses you need because you’re so fucking blind even though I hate it when you use them to cover your eyes and I love your shitty messy hair that you never style and your dumb fucking face. And I saw all this shit before we remembered each other and I fucking liked it then and I see all this shit now that we’re living together and I fucking like it even more. I’ve been hard for like three weeks straight just being around you so yeah, Richie, I was fucking jerking off to your interview. Happy?”

Richie stared at him in stunned silence, eyes wide and filled with emotion even though his face was still lax with shock. 

“Well?” Eddie demanded, voice strained. 

“We should have sex,” Richie blurted, eyes still boring into Eddie’s. 

Eddie squeaked out a disbelieving, “What?!”

“We should fuck,” Richie repeated, gaze searching Eddie’s face before sliding down to his lap where his cock, while not as hard as it had been before Richie’s interruption, was still at half mast. “Right now.”

“I swear to fucking god if you’re messing with me,” Eddie started to threaten. 

“We should fuck,” Richie continued eyes flying back up to meet Eddie’s own. “And then we should cuddle for a bit before showering together because you seem like the type of person who would need to clean up like immediately. Then we should maybe go out to dinner after and hold hands.”

“What?” Eddie croaked. 

“And you should be my boyfriend. And maybe marry me if that’s something you might want to do again, you know, in the future. Down the line.”

That indecipherable something behind Richie’s eyes became clear. Vulnerability. Longing. Want.

Love. 

Eddie inhaled sharply. “Yeah,” he gasped. “Yup. We can do that.”

Richie’s tentative expression bloomed into a dopey, wide grin. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, bro. For sure.” Eddie’s head bobbed in a manic nod to emphasize his agreement. 

Richie moved forward, landing on his knees on the bed. His grin turned teasing. “Ok,  _ bro _ .”

“You know what, fuck you! This was a weird fucking situation so I think I can be excused one word. And who gives a shit if I say ‘bro’ anyway? Literally only you for some reason. It’s not that strange of a thing to say. A lot of people use the term ‘bro’ because it’s common, ok, dipshit? You’re always running around calling people ‘dude’ and ‘man’ but ‘bro’ is where you draw your idiotic, arbitrary line? That’s fucking dumb.”

One hand braced on the bed, the other coming up to caress Eddie’s scarred cheek, Richie beamed down at Eddie. “No, yeah, it’s totally cool, my bad, bro.”

“Shut the fuck up, Richie.” Eddie ignored the way his voice came out, an airiness to it he had never heard before. 

Richie spoke up against Eddie’s mouth, their lips brushing. “I’m fucking trying.”

As Eddie pressed up into the kiss, Richie’s answering groan vibrating through him, he thought that maybe he could get used to this. This could be his new thing. 

He let his hands wander, sliding his palms up and down Richie’s sides and back, across his shoulders, into his hair. 

Richie’s hips stuttered at the tugging in his hair. “Ah, fuck,” he grunted.

Eddie felt a satisfied smirk twitch up the corner of his mouth.

With a hungry moan, Richie dived back in, deepening the kiss even as his own hand made its way down to Eddie’s impressively recovered erection. He palmed him through his sweatpants, hand hot and firm through the tented fabric. Richie directed a questioning look at Eddie, pupils blown but expression hesitant. Picking up on the request for permission, Eddie nodded desperately and was rewarded with Richie’s hand slipping past the waistband of his pants to grip his cock. The pressure was on just the right side of too tight.

Muffling a shout into the juncture between Richie’s neck and shoulder, Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his hips. Emotion swelled in his chest as sensation crested over him, his climax so close he could feel it buzzing under his skin.

Richie pulled away, hand still pumping up and down Eddie’s dick, and whispered huskily, “You can ask me some questions about my upcoming projects if you want. If that helps.”

Groaning for more reasons than he could reasonably list, Eddie couldn’t help the breathless laugh Richie’s dumb fucking comment caused. “God, I hate you. Why did I have to find you of all people hot? You suck.”

Richie’s eyes lit up and he smirked puckishly. “Now there’s an idea, Eds. Always thinking, aren’t you?”

Richie slid down the length of Eddie’s body in a surprisingly suave movement.

Eddie gasped out his pleasure as a hot, wet, tight, fucking beautifully talented mouth swallowed down his cock. 

“Jesus fuck!”

Richie pulled off and spoke against the jut of Eddie’s hip, “No, Richie and Eddie fuck.” 

He planted a quick and deeply sweet kiss to the same spot before diving back down, eager and enthusiastic. 

“Fuck you!” Eddie laughed and shuddered, too many emotions surging in his chest. “Don’t make me laugh when you have my dick in your mouth, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me,” Richie said to the inside of Eddie’s thigh, his hand still stroking. “You’re kind of the love of my life and I literally live to make you laugh. Be a bit less kink shamey about it.”

Tears sprang up at the corners of Eddie’s eyes even as he thrusted forward, seeking more of anything from Richie’s hands and mouth. “Oh. That’s, uh. Fuck. What the hell. I’m honestly so mad right now. How are you being cute and hot and infuriating and romantic as shit at the same time. Fucking stupid.”

Richie laughed into the inside of Eddie’s other thigh even as he bit and sucked a hickey. 

“Oh, fuuuuuck,” Eddie groaned.

With a smug wink, Richie took the head of Eddie’s cock back into his mouth and slowly sucked him down. 

“Close, close, so fucking close,” Eddie warned. 

He almost cried his despair when Richie pulled off again, his hand holding on to Eddie’s painfully hard dick and providing literally no other form of relief.

“Alright, babe, you got a few options here,” Richie began. 

“Is getting to come one of them because I think I might kill you if you keep stopping,” Eddie grit out.

“Option one!” Richie raised his voice pointedly, ignoring Eddie’s threat. “You hand me a tissue from your nightstand and I catch your spunk easy peasy, tissue jizzy. We can keep this shit clean and contained.”

“Option two,” Richie continued counting, punctuating his statement with a quick lick and kiss to the head of Eddie’s dick that had him bucking. “You can come on my face. Mark your territory, babe, because this big dumb face is all yours.”

Eddie actually fucking whimpered. 

“Oh, a contender,” Richie hummed, licking his lips. “Alright. Now. Option three: I go back down on you and let you fuck my mouth like a really fucking expensive whore. You can come in my mouth and I’ll swallow like the Eddie Kaspbrak come slut I was born to be.”

“Fuck,” Eddie grunted. “Three. Option fucking three, please.”

“Holy shit,” Richie murmured against Eddie’s stomach. “Eddie, you’re so hot.”

And then Richie’s mouth was back on him and he was bobbing his head and gripping one of Eddie’s hips with one hand and Eddie’s ass with the other, encouraging him to roll his hips forward and fuck into his mouth. 

Eddie writhed and thrust up into the sensation, his hand flying out to tug at Richie’s hair. 

“Richie,” Eddie choked out. “RichieRichieRichie!”

Eddie came so hard it all became white noise. 

When he came back to awareness, Richie was peppering kisses along his body. Up his thighs, across his hips, trailing over his abdomen in a wild, disordered series of warm, affectionate pecks. 

Richie made his way to Eddie’s throat and Eddie needed to feel him. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie wheezed, exhausted and full of so much love he thought he might explode with it. “Get your dick in my hand right now.”

Sputtering out a laugh against Eddie’s neck, Richie shook his head and started to prop himself up. “It’s ok. You don’t have to, I can take care of it my- FUCK ME.”

“I said what I said,” Eddie told him, hand wrapped around Richie’s cock and- “What the fuck, Richie. How the fuck did your dick get so big?”

“Jesus,” Richie moaned, his mouth pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to Eddie’s collar bone. “You sure do know how to flatter a guy.”

“This isn’t flattery,” Eddie told him at once, stroking up with a little twist, the new motion making Richie rut hard into Eddie’s fist. “This is genuine confusion.”

“Oh my god, how do you make saying I have a big dick sound so insulting and why am I so fucking turned on by it. Shit, ah, fuck. Yes. Oh fuck, I’m so close, Eddie, Eds, I’m gonna come. Fuck me, I’m gonna come. Quick give me another backhanded compliment.”

“Shut the fuck up and come on me,” Eddie commanded, speeding up the motions of his fist as he jacked Richie off. 

Richie came almost silently, muscles twitching as the tension built up along his body. Eddie watched every shift in Richie’s features - the way his forehead creased as if in concentration, the tight squeeze of his eyes like he was in pain, the slack fall of his mouth as he rasped a punched out ‘ah’ that sounded as if it came from the very back of his throat. 

He was so fucking gorgeous. 

Richie collapsed into a boneless heap beside Eddie, his breathing ragged. 

“FYI, I might cry. I don’t know,” Richie told him between deep gulps of oxygen.

“Why would you cry?” Eddie asked, his own breathing finally evening out. 

“Because I’m feeling very emotional right now and I just got my dick touched by the only person I’ve ever truly loved so I might cry. Full disclosure.”

He did sound sort of choked up. 

“Oh,” Eddie murmured, his own throat feeling a little tight. “That’s fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean, not like I’d make fun of you,” Eddie shrugged. “You walked in on me jerking off to an interview you did. Not like I have room to judge.”

“That’s so embarrassing, Eds,” Richie told him with a wet laugh. Eddie turned his head and yup, Richie was kind of crying, tears sliding down the sides of his face only to be hastily scrubbed away. 

“It really fucking is,” Eddie laughed. 

“Oh, shit, wait. Here, let me.”

Eddie looked up in surprise as Richie heaved himself into a sitting position and grabbed a couple of tissues from the box on his nightstand. He wiped the streaks of come from Eddie’s stomach and chest, meticulously getting him as clean as he could. 

“There you go, good as new.” Richie tossed the soiled tissues into the wastebasket and kissed the tip of Eddie’s nose. “I have to say, I really love your jerk off set up. Very convenient. Neat. Organized.”

“I’ll bash your head in with that tissue box.”

“But Eddie, how would I then be able to give you  _ more _ head?” 

“I hate that that argument is working on me.”

Flopping back down on the bed, Richie scooted himself so he could lay his head on Eddie’s chest. He was taller than Eddie by more than a little bit, but he made the position work, arranging his limbs and curling his body over Eddie’s. Eddie felt a jolt of pleasure as he was offered a rare chance to look down on Richie.

Laughter lingered around the lines of his mouth, his eyes bright, full of mirth and affection. Eddie wondered how he’d never seen it before, the way Richie looked at him. 

How he always looked at him. 

Eddie wanted to run his hands through Richie’s hair and he was allowed now so he did just that, digging his fingers into the mass of curls. 

Letting out a pleased hum, Richie closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “You’re good at that.”

“Literally all I’m doing is moving my hands back and forth.”

“And you’re doing it really fucking well. Take a compliment, Kaspbrak. Fucking hell.”

They fell into a comfortable, contented silence, Eddie running his hands through Richie’s hair while Richie pressed the occasional kiss to Eddie’s chest, right above his heart. His hands weren’t idle either, his fingers stroking nonsensical patterns against Eddie’s skin.

“It’s disgusting how cute you are right now. You’re forty. Be less cute,” Eddie commanded without any heat. 

“Oh ho ho, I don’t want to hear that from you, you fucking hypocrite. You’re like the cutest motherfucker I’ve ever seen. Cut that shit out.”

“No,” Eddie decided. 

“Yeah, good choice,” Richie mumbled. “You probably couldn’t even if you tried.”

“We need to shower.”

“Cool.”

“Seriously.”

“Got it.”

“We’re like super sweaty and your whole mouth probably reeks of jizz and I definitely just ran my unwashed hands through your hair despite the fact that I had been jerking off and then jerked you off.”

“Please, Eddie, do go on,” Richie drawled in a posh British accent. He switched seamlessly back into his normal voice. “You’re really great at this pillow talk thing. Tell me more about the jizz and pre-jizz and lube that you raked through my hair.”

“That’s why I said we needed to shower,” Eddie huffed. “Which is code for ‘get the fuck off of me, you’re heavy and we need to shower’ in case you didn’t get that. Also, I’m fucking furious that you got good at the British guy voice.”

Shooting up like he’d been burned, Richie let out a delighted cackle. “Eddie! Did you just admit to me that you think I got good at my impressions? Did you just say that?!”

Eddie rolled his eyes as he stomped out of bed. “I hate you so much.”

Following Eddie to the bathroom, Richie kept on the subject, undeterred by Eddie turning his back on him. “Eddie, baby, this is so much more embarrassing than stroking it to my interviews. I have to tell everyone.”

“I will knee you in the balls.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t like that kind of pain play.”

“Jesus.”

When the shower was hot enough, Eddie stepped in, pulling a willing and docile Richie in with him. 

“I’m so glad I splurged on the big shower,” Richie mumbled to the shower spray. 

“You get paid too much for what you do,” Eddie said at once. 

“Oh, Eddie! Keep talking,” Richie begged, smile so tender it made Eddie flush. “I love it when you’re mean to me. And let me wash your hair while you do it. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Eddie made an incredulous face as Richie squirted shampoo into the palm of his hand, making good on his desire to wash Eddie’s hair. “You’ve always wanted to get insulted while washing my hair?”

“Hells yeah, babe,” Richie nodded, attention focused on Eddie’s hair as he worked the lather through it.

“You’re so fucking strange, Tozier.”

“Listen, I get off on the intimacy, ok? Cut me some slack. Not everyone can jerk off to YouTube videos of semi-famous comedians.”

“I’m going to drown you in this shower.”

Contrary to his words, Eddie got the soap and started cleaning Richie off, using his soapy hands to explore as much of Richie as he could. Richie hadn’t taken any of his clothes off in the bedroom so this was the first time Eddie could actually  _ look _ and he was going to take advantage.

“God, Eddie, you’re seriously hitting all of my kinks right now. Give me a break, I just came.”

Eddie snorted, trying to hide his burgeoning smile under the cascade of water, but when Richie smiled, pleased and delighted at his reaction, he couldn’t help it. 

Smiling genuinely, shaking his head in disbelief, Eddie looked up at Richie. His hair was waterlogged, dripping into his eyes, and Eddie wanted to kiss him. So he did. “I love you, you know that?”

Richie pulled Eddie into a wet hug, arms wrapped tightly around Eddie’s neck. Voice muffled by their positions, Richie told him, “I love you so much. I don’t think anything makes me as happy as you do.”

They were quiet, the sound of the running shower gentle and constant around them. Eddie let Richie’s words soak into him, the sentiment saturating him with a feeling of nearly overwhelming happiness. 

Eddie broke the moment with a clearing of his throat before grabbing the conditioner. “Condition your fucking hair, man. You’re gonna get split ends.”

“Do you honestly think I know anything about conditioner?”

“Well, you better learn. You’re a grown ass man, Richie, take care of yourself, Jesus Christ.”

“Did you know that I used to use bar soap on my hair?”

“Oh my god.”

“I will give you three guesses about when I finally stopped.”

“You’re stupid, you’re so fucking stupid. I’m going to have to teach you how to shower, what the hell. I’m going to have to teach a forty year old man how to shower. What is wrong with you. You don’t even moisturize either, I can fucking tell. You had like NOTHING in your bathroom cabinets when I first got here.”

“That’s not true and frankly, I’m insulted. I had neosporin, eye drops, and anxiety medication. That’s all you need, honestly.”

“That is not all you need! God, you even had your toothbrush sitting out on the bathroom counter. That’s disgusting. Do you have any idea how unhygienic that is?” 

They were finally clean and conditioned to Eddie’s preference and Eddie toweled them off. Richie bent uncomplainingly to Eddie’s unspoken demands, moving wherever Eddie moved him, until they were mostly dry. 

“I’m getting the fucking lotion and facial moisturizer and you’re brushing your teeth. I was right, your breath smells like jizz.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Shut up, Richie, shut the fuck up.”

“Put your dick in my mouth and I just might.”

Heat suffused Eddie’s face and, if the foggy bathroom mirror could be trusted, he was bright red. Richie pinched his cheeks lovingly before grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste as ordered, his gaze never leaving Eddie.

As Richie brushed his teeth, Eddie started slathering the lotion on both their bodies, earning a jolt of surprise from a foamy mouthed Richie. 

They finished at roughly the same time, Richie rinsing out his mouth while Eddie rubbed the last of the lotion into their skin. Eddie ushered him back into the bedroom where Eddie proceeded to get dressed - simple jeans, a polo, and a hoodie. Richie just stood there and stared. 

“Your room next, asshole. You can’t just stand there in a towel all day.”

Pushed to his own closet, Richie grabbed his own casual clothes, slipping them on while still staring at Eddie. His undershirt was soft and well worn, but the button up he put over it was wrinkled and the collar stood at an odd angle. Eddie stepped into his space and fidgeted with it until it laid right. Then, just because he wanted to, Eddie slid his palms over Richie’s shoulders and arms, smoothing the rest of his shirt as well as he could.

Richie studied him the whole time, the entirety of his attention focused on Eddie.

“Eds, I’m going to be brutally honest here,” Richie told him with a shocking amount of solemnity. “This domestic-you-taking-care-of-me shit is really fucking doing it for me. I think my heart has a boner.”

“You’re an idiot,” Eddie told him dryly. “Now grab your phone, wallet, and keys, we’re going out to dinner.”

“Eddie!” Richie shouted, his entire body vibrating with excitement. “Are you taking me out on a date!?”

Shuffling a little nervously, Eddie nodded and strode towards the door. “Yeah. To that Thai place that does the garlic pepper beef you like. And the tea with the boba.”

Locking the door behind them, Richie waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Baby, if I hadn’t just done it, I would be on my knees blowing you right this second.”

Across the hall, their neighbor choked on their iced coffee as they fumbled with their keys. 

Eddie closed his eyes and sighed, giving himself a second before he rushed past them with an apologetic grimace. 

Richie, for his own part, cackled and offered their neighbor an enthusiastic high five. 

“We need to move,” Eddie told him as they stepped into the elevator. 

Laughing at Eddie’s mortified expression, Richie threw an arm around his shoulders before planting a soft kiss to his temple. 

“There’s no reason to be ashamed of living a sexy, sexy life, Eds.”

“I’m ashamed of you,” Eddie shot back, leaning into Richie’s hold until he was practically nuzzling the taller man.

“That’s fair.”

They reached the building’s garage and Eddie shoved Richie out the elevator before stepping forward himself and grabbing Richie’s hand. Eddie interlocked their fingers and pulled him towards Richie’s car. “Come on, jackass. I’m hungry.”

Sighing a deeply satisfied sigh and smiling down at Eddie as he unlocked his car, Richie told him earnestly, “This day turned out a million times better than expected.”

They slid into their seats and buckled up, Eddie unable to really hide his own smile. 

Then, as Richie pulled out of the garage, Eddie had to ask, “So we’re definitely not telling the others how we got together, right?’

“Oh, definitely not,” Richie agreed with a snort. “I caught you jerking off to my interview and then proposed marriage before crying after sex? That’s all privileged information, baby.”

“Cool, we’ll make up a boring story. Like were were having breakfast and just knew or something,” Eddie suggested. Then a thought struck him. “Can I tell them how big your dick is? They’ll never fucking believe it.”

Richie laughed as he merged into traffic, his lips curling into that mischievous smile. “You can tell them, but you have to wait until Bill’s drinking something.”

Throwing his own head back in a laugh, Eddie tossed Richie a look that was simultaneously affectionate and conspiratorial. “Deal.”

Richie reached out with one hand, giving Eddie’s thigh a squeeze. He returned both hands to the steering wheel before Eddie could chide him for it and Eddie knew, without a shadow of a doubt, this would be his new thing. 

Jokes and insults. Hand holding and tender touches. Kisses and shouting. Obnoxious laughter and gentle sighs. Picking on each other and teaming up against their friends. Sex and cuddles. Being in love. 

All good things. 

Way better than jerking off to random television interviews. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Bev: Hey, Eddie! We figured we should go as a group to see Richie film his interview for Late Night since we’re all in town. What do you think?  
Eddie: ...  
Richie: ...  
Ben: Eddie, you’re turning red. Are you ok?  
Bill: Richie, stop laughing. Bev literally just asked a question.  
Mike: What’s so funny?  
Stan, sighing deeply: It’s a sex thing, isn’t it?  
Eddie, power walking away: FUCK YOU STAN YOU DONT KNOW SHIT


End file.
